There are mornings in which words are too much; the previous night’s tension has not yet left my jaw, and the stream of questions and entreats–rapid-fired from little mouths which don’t yet require caffeine–proves too much for my overwrought mind. Like the aspens which bend before my window in pre-dawn wind, I too have spent a night being battered: by images, by fragments of what I said and she said; by imaginings and second thoughts about the shape of a scraggly juniper which, the day before, met its match in a pair of long, sharp shears. It can be anything, these ruminations that keep me up at night.
And then there are the voices of my day, those which emanate unrehearsed, live from the moment as it uncoils. I want to savor these young voices, to delight in staccato speech and the sputtering of words just learned. But at times, my need for stillness and silence prevents me from such revelry. At times, I seek only to tame the wild moment, because the unpredictability of parenting—which in my mind leans toward chaos—can prove too much for my pattern-seeking nature.
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I’ve written often about my difficulty with motherhood (here, here and here, for example). And each time I do so, I worry about how my daughters will respond when they, one day, read the ancient musings of their mother. Will they confuse my feelings about the role of motherhood with my feelings about them? Will they believe, if I acknowledge frustration with the fact that motherhood tends to be isolating and repetitious for me, that I love them less? Or that they are responsible for my feelings?
The concept of modern motherhood is nothing if not a contradiction: we are told that we’re responsible for everything our child does, but then that we’ve overstepped our bounds and become too controlling; we are told to keep all potentially harmful substances—from pesticides to plastics–away from our children, but then told we should give our kids freedom and room to roam; we are taught to attend to their emotional, social, physical, intellectual, and spiritual needs, but then written off as helicopter parents, unable to separate from the children we’ve inadvertently smothered. (But don’t dare back too far away from your precious and needy children, lest you want to be called selfish–perhaps the biggest sin in motherhood.)
This confusion about the optimal distance between mother and child boils down to this: Are mothers supposed to have their own lives and experiences, independent from those of their children? Most of us would answer a resounding “yes.” Yet it’s likely we still fear that our distance may harm our children, because it implies that our availability will be limited. (If you disagree, consider the so-called Mommy wars, and the heated debate about whether the children of working mothers are damaged by being in daycare; this remains an emotionally loaded and highly provocative issue.)
Another incarnation of this question is whether mothers are entitled to have—and give voice to—their negative experiences with motherhood. Publicly acknowledging such sentiments may feel taboo, as though a sacred institutional pact has been breached by a disloyal member.
Then there is the idea that our children will be harmed if we articulate the challenges of motherhood or show them that we’re struggling. It is true that a parent’s emotional outpouring can be distressing or even damaging for a child, particularly if it is accompanied by abusive behavior, or if it is ongoing and representative of mental illness. And children shouldn’t be asked to provide counsel or emotional support to parents struggling with their own issues. But I suspect that our fear of acknowledging maternal dissatisfaction derives not just from our desire to protect children, but from the age-old belief that women are not full-fledged subjects in their own lives, entitled to their own experiences and reactions, but rather baby-making machines.
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On days in which parenting takes the wind from my sails, I think of the ballerina in my daughter’s musical jewelry box. Each time the box is opened, I’m surprised to see her spring to life; I assume that she’s been permanently destroyed, due to rough treatment from dirt-encrusted hands and a sharp hinge which comes dangerously close to decapitating her. But there she is, rising again when the box is next opened, turning steadily as ever to the tune of “It’s a Small World.”
Most mothers can likely relate to this tenacious plastic doll: we endure and persevere, and sometimes surprise ourselves with our own resiliency. But, unlike the doll, we need to vent and spill and gripe about our lives, especially on days when our own spring fails–days when we’re not sure we’re cut out for this thing called motherhood. In the end, there is no template, no right way to be a mom. And at times, we all feel dissatisfaction and despair. But ideally we can surround ourselves not just with children and their buckets of toys and clothes and carriers, but with other mothers who speak their truth and say, “I hear you” when we speak ours.
How about you–do you tell others if you’re struggling? And do you think mothers are encouraged to speak of their dissatisfaction with the role?
Photo by Tilemahos Efthimiadis, via Flickr’s Creative Commons License.
You have powerfully and poetically summed up the contradictions surrounding motherhood. Your joys and frustrations come through clear as a bell. And I too have marveled over the resilience of that indefatigable ballerina in the music box!
Tell others that I’m struggling? And admit that I’m not Superwoman? Never! I learned in college women’s studies classes (or someplace) that I can and should have a career and a family. How can I complain now? Admit that I’d like to occasionally lock my kids in their room so I don’t have to listen to them for maybe 20 minutes of silence? Admit that sometimes I’d just rather go to an movie made for adults, or take a bath, than cook one more damn dinner? I made this bed…
Ah, Dana… well, first, congratulations for finding a moment in the midst of it all to write a blog post- the start of school can be a beautiful thing. Second, as I seem to say about half the time you write anything, GET OUT OF MY HEAD. Heh. So, like, yesterday, in my first therapy session in about ten years, I talked about my goals for therapy/ life: to develop and pursue interests beyond motherhood and to figure out ways to decrease my chronic isolation. My father is in the “field” (ie, mental health), too, and he works with moms and kids… typically he gets a referral when a mother is lost in the wilderness of mothering and she thinks she needs him to work with her kid. He always ends up working with the mother. One thing he talks to them (and me) about is how important it is for them to be doing things in their lives, on a REGULAR basis, that cannot be justified. In other words, how they need to find ways to be selfish. I find this a fiendishly difficult task, and I don’t mean to be noble in saying that. It feels like a loss of identity. I know being a mother is big part of my identity, and I feel the anxious need, of course, to clarify that I love my children dearly. But it is not all of who I am, yet I have lost track of much else. I admire women who have the energy, the determination and force of character to keep doing what they love, what gives them joy. Up until recently, I thought it was beyond me- how could I find that kind of energy? But now I realize: it creates energy, and if you want it, the time can be found. And it is good for your kids to have modeled for them the pursuit of what one loves, so they will know it is okay for them to do the same.
I imagine it is similar to the taboo of saying no to motherhood. When I was in my mid – twenties to mid – thirties “Oh, no kids?” was followed by a not-so-subtle glance at a watch. Now that I’m nearly forty, “Oh, no kids?” is usually accompanied by a slight head shake & pitying look. Is it so hard to believe I never wanted kids? That I didn’t relate well to children when I was a child, and that hasn’t changed? Why must the choice not to breed be considered a selfish or aberrant one? I feel this disapproval MUCH more from women than men, which saddens me, as I didn’t expect that it would be my own sex that reduced my value as a person to the use of my womb.
I don’t think it is encouraged, but I do tell others that I am struggling and I think it comes from being a really sensitive person who wears her heart on her sleeve. I don’t think I could bottle it up somewhere. I always went to someone with every foible I had, or at least went to my diary first and then someone. Nowadays, I usually end up going to my husband, but I still do write down my struggles if I need that avenue. I also go to friends who have kids; those friends who I can be totally honest with. These are friends that I have mostly known from childhood because in this “new” place I live now I don’t really have a community of friends, yet. Partly due to the isolation that can be motherhood. The more I get out, even in the neighborhood, the more I find people that do talk about their frustrations. Maybe it is a relic of living in a blue collar area of Chicago where people really aren’t afraid to say what’s wrong. They talk about it here. However, I can empathize with what you are saying because I have lived in communities where I know I would feel a lot more pressure to be all that and more. I “gave up” a big chunk of my career path that I worked hard to achieve (you know what it takes to get a PhD, so do I). Now I teach at a community college part time and take care of kids (and dog). What I am also realizing is how short a time it really is that I am isolated. We all say kids grow fast, so I just really tell myself every day that it is a for a relatively short time and to just enjoy it as much as possible. But I really really TELL myself that as a mantra every day. It helps. It helps me, anyway. What also has really helped is doing what Geri said, and that is to make time for something that “feeds” me. That said, we all struggle with the roles and ourselves and the idea of being selfish. I think it is important to remember 1) nobody is perfect and 2) what we really want to teach our kids is how to survive successfully in this world of overstimulation and too many choices. And by doing these we have to say that sometimes we will do things that are for us, and it is okay because our choices and our hobbies teach our children about life, communities, and their parents, which is valuable information. For me getting back to exercise is an important step in the process. I finally “made” the time to start exercising again after about 3.5 years of having kids or being pregnant. It is really really good and it helps my coping on so many levels. Like Geri said, we need to do something that feeds us so we can feed our kids and teach them a good way to care for themselves and others. It’s like being in a airplane that loses pressure in flight; we have to put our oxygen on before we can be of any use to help anyone else. We have to vent our frustrations. It is healthy and it is partly why people say it takes a community to raise kids. We all need a moment off and to ourselves and it is 100% ok.
Dana, you brought back memories of what it is like to be a mother of young children. I would like to say that there is a wider margin for error than we think when parenting. The expectations of motherhood have not been clarified over the years since the roles of women have changed in the 1960′s. It’s complicated and your piece is a wonderful expression how this awesome charge feels.
You bring back memories of the what it feels like to be the mother of small children. Well said.
I think that we are in a unique trend of parenting right now where mothers are held accountable for pretty much everything bad that could go wrong with their kids, but either it’s coming to a close, or I’m not letting it bother me anymore. I also think that having a spouse as partner helps tremendously, as well as writing about it as many of us do on our blogs. When we write we recognize that we share so many of the same concerns, joys, and frustrations.
I love being a mother. It has been the most important and thus far, defining experience of my life. It has helped me journey toward a better self and has taught me so much.
But today? Today I picked up my kids after a couple of hours of quiet at home. It was a blissful afternoon, really, in which I wiled away the time. When I got them, though, everything changed. The house was full of noise and chaos. As much as I missed them, it was hard to enjoy them. The transition from school to home was just too much for all of us. Those moments of peace seemed like they were weeks ago, not the very same afternoon. Parenting is hard. But I guess that’s what makes it so special, too.
I think more and more mothers are able to talk about their lack of overwhelming love for the role 24/7. Society accepts these days that it is a difficult job and even that, yes, it is a job – albeit an unpaid and unappreciated one
I love your insight that we are expected to be constantly in control of our children whilst at the same time not being controlling of them – what a dilemma!!
But I also agree that it is not our children’s role to provide us with counsel – we are the grownups in the equation. So although I definitely will tell my children that I am having a bad day, or that I am tired, or whatever, I would not go into any details that I do not feel are age appropriate or fair. I think the line is quite clear on that one – and needs to remain so if they are to be allowed to be children.
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